Defining Love
by elissa echo
Summary: In the end, the beginning doesn't matter. Draco x Ginny


**Notes**: This was for a 'Write What You Hate' challenge a while back. So. Draco/Ginny, first person.  
  
**Warnings**: Dysfunction and ambiguously motivated Ginny. Character death.

**defining love.**

_i. uncertain beginning_

It started when he kissed me. What started, I couldn't tell you. All I can tell you is the love thing _(twisted deranged soso wrong love)_ didn't begin until much later.

But I suppose you could say that was where things started going wrong.  
  
_ii. i want to break your heart_

To tell the truth, I've no idea why he kissed me. He said he liked red hair, and I asked him why he didn't just go after my brother.

He turned this scarlet shade that, simply put, did not become him. Not that much does.

Blokes don't do it for me, and besides, they'd probably kill me, he told me, but I think he was lying about the bloke bit.

And then Dean walked by and before I could stop to think, I kissed him back and he stood there, rigid and shocked.

I could feel Dean's eyes burning on me as he walked by, the hurt and betrayal permeating my skin and slipping into my bloodstream _(don't look at me)._

But it's not like it was my fault—he dumped me.

He should have warned Malfoy then that it wasn't smart to mess with a Weasley.  
  
_iii. chained_

Dean didn't say anything and that only half-surprised me. He never was the type who liked other people to know the sexual misadventures of others, especially not when they concerned his ex-girlfriend.

I never slept with him, but we got close a few times _(stop stop Dean stop)._

Every time we almost did, he said something stupid _(iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou)_ and—well, it wasn't exactly what I was looking for. It was pointless to look for love in a time of death.

But still, it was _Malfoy._ I expected he'd spread the news like wildfire.

He did not support us. He did not even _like_ us. He just liked Voldemort less. Supposedly.  
  
_iv. sheep in wolf's clothing_

The first time I slept with him, it was an accident. A lot of people say that these days, but I truly mean it. I thought he was Harry.

Don't look at me like that—Polyjuice can do that to a person. It's the reason Polyjuice brothels exist _(Oliver's expensive)._

I asked him why and he said he had been out on a mission posing as Potter. When I "attacked" him, as he so lovingly put it, he wasn't about to turn away a shag.

Men.  
  
_v. satisfy this hungriness_

After that, it was more about release than anything else _(if we sleep together will i like you better?)._ It gets hard when you've lost your brothers, your family, your friends, and you still know you have to get up in the morning, or the dead of night, or just not fall asleep in the first place, and everyone needed someone they could run to.

Hermione had Ron. Harry had Blaise. Fred and George had each other, but not in that way. I was a bit strung out on my own and talking to yourself can make you think you're going mad after a while _(hi how are you today i'm good and you?)._

We never talked, but at least we drove away what we wanted to talk about when we made each other burn in the most carnal of ways.  
  
_vi. i think i'm paranoid_

I keep talking about how it all happened, but really it came down to three basic steps.

Snog, shag, ignore. Repeat as needed. _(need want please)_

But then it got complicated.

See, war does funny things to people. One of those things is it sends a lot of people on power trips. You know the deal—You won't win this war without me. You'll do as I say. That type of stuff _(bitter resentment unrequited love entrapment creating bouts of insanity)._

For Malfoy, it did the opposite.

He hated himself for leaving his father and he always needed coddling, reassurance that he wasn't a bad, bad man. He was, but I wasn't about to tell him that. I'd done it once and it had ended badly.

When I say badly, I mean I might have accidentally-on-purpose fired the Imperius curse at him. Theoretically speaking.

Instead, I watched over him, watching as he grew weaker and weaker with each battle. Every time he came to me, I nursed him like he were a wounded child, and every time he left, I held that much more power over him. _(absolute power is intoxicating)_

One night he came to me, eyes deadened and shoulders slumped.

I'm leaving, he told me blankly.

To where?

I don't know. Somewhere.

But I knew where he was going, what he planned to do. I told him to wait a week. I thought it would be enough time. I was right.

It took exactly one day, seventeen hours, three minutes, and thirty seconds for him to get hit in battle.  
  
_vii. burn me, break me, any way you need me_

The new curse, the fourth Unforgivable, had been borne of Marcus Flint's delirium and perfected by Theodore Nott's psychosis. Hermione would have been appalled at their cruelty to House Elves.

It was a draining curse to cast and I knew they were saving their power to use on Harry.

This time, the Polyjuice was no accident.

Flint and Nott went ballistic when they found themselves flying backward and saw me emerge from the shadows, lifting Malfoy up and floating him away. His hair began changing colour before their eyes and they threw more than a few deadly curses my way.

When Malfoy woke from his unnatural sleep, he saw me. A change registered in his eyes and when I didn't smile at him, they went blank. I told him he was a right idiot for trying to defect and he agreed, his head nodding and his eyes coming alive again with glaring hatred.

Then I smiled. _(you can't escape)_  
  
_viii. damn the consequences_

I healed his wounds and soothed away his nightmares and made him come deep and hard inside me.

I told him to kiss me, and he did _(slow and sweet with no emotion)._

He made breakfast and served me in bed.

Hermione came in and stopped short when she saw Malfoy placing the tray on my lap.

What are you doing? she asked, and slid a sheet of paper haphazardly into her pocket.

I will do whatever my mistress wishes of me, he said, smiling tightly.

I picked up a wedge of an apple and bit into it.

Oh Ginny, Hermione moaned, what have you done?

She raised a hand to her temple and massaged it, looking distraught.

He was going to leave, I said simply, and looking at him, I knew I had done the right thing by keeping him here. He needed someone to make sure he was okay.

Then you should have found another way to keep him here! This…this blind obedience, it's worse than dying.

Malfoy looked between us. The crunch of my teeth sinking into the flesh of the apple resonated loudly in the angry silence. I swallowed.

So you would rather I let Malfoy turn himself over and lose our greatest resource on dark magic? I snapped.

If this is the alternative, then yes, yes I would!

Hermione stormed out of the room, the sheet of paper falling to the ground. I Summoned it over.

It read: _M's been feeding his father information for months. The only reason he doesn't declare his allegiance outright is Ginny—he needs her for information. Ginny will say anything during sex, M says._ It was in Harry's handwriting.

A burning fire spread through me, to the very tips of my fingers and toes. Eyes blazing, I turned to Malfoy.

Have you been double-crossing us?

Malfoy looked unabashed when he answered, Yes.

I'm going to kill her for not telling me.  
  
_ix. cold_

The next day, face leaden with shock, Ron told me Hermione died, her neck snapped in her sleep.

A chill ran through me and I told myself, Coincidence. It was a coincidence.  
  
_x. a mind of your own_

I bit my lip when I saw Harry crying openly over Hermione's makeshift grave. It was unmarked and when spring rolls around and the grass grows again, no one will be able to tell she's buried here. It's the best we can do these days.

I looked over at Malfoy and he appeared unconcerned. _(listless eyes and bored stance)_

I muttered, Aren't you the least bit upset?

He said, Why should I be? I was the one who killed her.

I felt my face slacken and my blood ran cold in my veins, but it was her funeral and I wanted to show my love for her. I told Malfoy to pretend he cared and he did.  
  
_xi. as long as i want you it's all right_

I asked him what this was to him, whether it was _ever_ anything to him.

He said sex and information.

I'm surprised when pain shoots through my chest, less so when I tell him I hate him. _(lies taste bitter in my mouth and this tastes like metal)_

He blinked, and then walked away.  
  
_xii. because no one wanted to see_

Malfoy avoided me for a long time and I got lonely. I turn to Dean, but he turned me away because he knew what happened.

I couldn't tell you how he found out, but my guess is that he talked to Hermione before she died. Before she was murdered by my thought and Malfoy's hands. They seemed to have an uncanny connection and Ron was the only one who never noticed.

I think it's because he didn't want to see.

I talked to Ron, a bit, but I couldn't say everything I wanted to and eventually the talking stopped altogether.

It was only by luck that one night I was talking about how much I hated myself for missing Malfoy as he walked past. Instead of bypassing my room as he had done for three weeks, he turned and sat down on the bed next to me.

Tell me you love me, I said, and he did. _(love me love me love me)_

Make love to me, I said, and he did. _(screw me fuck me make it hurt like only you can)_  
  
_xiii. run you down_

When Harry announced that he knew how to defeat Voldemort, we had a celebration.

Pansy Parkinson, Marcus Flint, and Theodore Nott crashed the party.  
  
_xiv. co-dependent_

I cornered Parkinson in the hallway, my wand at her throat. She let out a hysterical giggle and her eyes shone of fear. _(I can hurt you maim you kill you)_

I won't hesitate to kill you, I told her, but my hand shook because I knew that only a handful of people possessed knowledge of the fourth Unforgivable and how it could be broken.

Then she laughed maniacally. The light reflected off her hair and I glared at her. _(don't laugh at the girl who has absolute power)_

When she calmed enough to speak, she revealed to me, I know how to reverse the curse on Draco.

The sense of another presence sank into me and I turned to see Malfoy watching the two of us with slated eyes, refusing to reveal emotion.

Why would you want to?

For the same reason you would want to. Because I love him and living like this is worse than death. _(I don't love him I don't I don't)_

War does strange things to people. _(want need own)_

Unblinking, I cast _Avada Kedavra,_ and Parkinson and the knowledge of how to fight the curse crumpled at my feet.

I faced Malfoy. You won't leave me, I told him. You won't.

He nodded and came closer. I thought he might kiss me, but he bent down, stroking Parkinson's hair with tenderness.

Even in death, I thought she looked deserving of pain.

Leave her, I said and Draco did, a tear slipping out of his eye.  
  
_xv. breaking down is easy_

Harry defeated Voldemort the next week, trapping his essence in a hand-crafted willow box with ancient runes carved everywhere and spells guarding it from intruders and unwanted attention.

I told Draco, There are no sides anymore.

No, he agreed, there are no sides.

I looked into his eyes and they were unbearably dead.

Do you love me?

I do if you wish me to.

My chest constricted and I wanted to scream, but I didn't.

I told him, Love me, Draco, and he did. _(I need you to love me)_

I told him, Hate me, Draco, and he did. _(but you can hate me if you want)_

It made it easier to kill him.

Moments before the green light flashed and his body slackened, falling to the floor, I asked myself, Is this love?

And I looked down at him, his eyes staring glassy and unfeeling back at me, and I think, maybe, in another life, it could have been.  
  
_-fin-_


End file.
